


the stupid things I've said before

by flyingthesky



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gratuitous French, M/M, assholes in love, i have no one to blame but myself, mark is friends with guys who row crew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-27
Updated: 2012-09-27
Packaged: 2017-11-15 03:47:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/522793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flyingthesky/pseuds/flyingthesky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's just not how he expected college to be, Mark guesses. Not the being a little in love with his best friend thing, because that's not a big deal and he's got that under control. The being friends with guys who row crew thing is a little weird, though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the stupid things I've said before

**Author's Note:**

> Be sure to [check the art](http://skyearth85.tumblr.com/post/32342505667/tsn-big-bang-the-stupid-things-ive-said-before) by skyearth85. ♥

Actually taking up Divya's offer to room with him and the Winklevosses is the worst choice he has ever made. Mark decides this once the room starts being a little fuzzy and he can't remember a good portion of the last few hours. 

_C'mon_ , Divya had said, _room with us so we don't have to rescue you from Kirkland every time we hang out._ He had smiled at Mark, the big bright one he used to charm girls, and Mark would like to say he's immune to that smile but he's really, really not. Which is really why Mark's head feels like someone stuffed a sheep into it and he can't remember anything about the last five minutes, nevermind twenty-four hours. Mark is at least 15% sure he wouldn't be this drunk if he wasn't rooming with the Winklevosses. He tips sideways onto the couch and focuses on the empty, unmarked bottle on the coffee table. 

It's like the size of a small Volkswagen or something, and it has made them really, truly smashed.

Mark doesn't want to know where Tyler procured whatever unholy, burning liquid they've been drinking from the unmarked bottle, but he knows (barely) that Tyler is under the coffee table and moaning. He thinks Cameron might be bent over the toilet and Divya, who has the highest alcohol tolerance humanly possible (or who maybe just has sense and didn't drink the ungodly strong alcohol like it was water), is making coffee. The coffeemaker sounds like nails against a chalkboard to Mark's admittedly delicate senses.

He groans and covers his head with one of the pillows on the couch. Divya, the asshole, just laughs. Mentally, Mark makes a note of that and tells himself that the next time Divya's got computer problems, he's going to have to beg for it. Fucker.

The horrible, horrible coffeemaker noises stop, and there's some noises that sound like Divya pouring out coffee for all four of them (so maybe Divya's not _that_ big of an asshole, maybe Mark's headache makes _him_ an asshole). He'll go for Tyler first, Mark thinks, because Tyler is going to puke all over their fucking floor if Divya doesn't hand him a wastebasket and try to get some coffee in him.

Tyler makes dying animal noises, and Mark hears Divya's sharp _it's your own fucking fault, here's a wastebasket_. It’s too loud for Mark’s tastes, so Mark pulls the pillow closer to his ears and tries to block out everything. He's doing a pretty good job until Divya shakes Mark. Mark ignores him, which is a stupid thing to do because Divya's fingers dig into his side and _it fucking hurts_. Grumbling, Mark slowly pulls himself into a mostly upright position and lets Divya curl his fingers around a coffee mug.

Waiting a moment for everything to stop being hazy, Mark hears what is definitely Cameron over the toilet. Divya is mumbling something, and Mark sips at his coffee. It is, somehow, perfect. That worries Mark, somewhere deep down inside, but he tries not to think of it. Thinking about it means dealing with squishy feelings that Mark generally pretends he doesn’t have.

"Mark," Tyler slurs, and Mark tries to focus on him, "Mark, listen. We should. We should make a dating site for just, like, Harvard guys."

It sounds like Tyler wants to say more, only he turns kinda green and resumes puking for everything he's worth. Mark wraps his mind around that thought: a dating site for Harvard guys. Stupid. It's really fucking stupid.

Only . . . 

Groping for his laptop, Mark opens up a document and types: UTG DACEBUUJ. Then he squints at it, erases it, and (slowly, carefully) types: THE FACEBOOK. Then he saves it and goes back to nursing his coffee. He falls asleep on the couch at some point, he guesses, because he wakes up to a blanket haphazardly tossed over him. Mark forces his eyes to focus and tries to kickstart his brain.

Static.

Mark tries for some higher brain function again and succeeds in being able to ascertain the following: the coffeemaker is on again, Tyler must have fallen asleep on the TV remote (although thankfully not on the volume control) again, and Divya is sitting in the armchair again. Also it's sunny again.

"I know you're awake," Divya says.  
"No," Mark says back.  
"Get the fuck up then," Divya says, "If you eat something, you'll function more like a human being."

Summoning energy, Mark manages to flip Divya the bird. He knows that it won't work, because a Divya with a purpose is a Divya who stops at nothing. There's a thirty-second pause. Then, just when Mark is beginning to feel safe, Divya rips the blanket away from Mark, who groans and tries to curl into himself. It doesn't work because _Divya hates him_ and manhandles Mark into a sitting position. Mark glares. Divya waits. Mark glares some more. Divya still waits.

" _Fine_ ," Mark says eventually.

Deep down, Mark knows that he does it because then Divya smiles (it's the slightest upturn of his lips, but Mark has it burned to memory) and Mark will do pretty much anything to see that smile. That's not something Divya needs to know, however, and so Mark lets him think that he agrees because Divya has won and not because Mark has a horrible soft spot for him—never mind the fact that those are basically the same thing.

In the middle of food (Mark would call it breakfast, but he's pretty sure it's near noon), the previous night comes back to Mark. Or rather, the reason for the previous night comes back to Mark. He remembers Erica, remembers fighting with her over the fact that she was using him to get to Tyler (or maybe Cameron, Mark doesn't think she's that picky). He remembers being angry and semi-drunkenly exacting revenge in the form of a site to rank girls. Dustin had helped, getting Mark the algorithm to do it from one of his friends because Divya refused, and then they crashed the servers by sending the link out to . . . People. Mark grimaces and Divya seems to realize that Mark has abruptly stopped eating, because he stops too.

"Divya," Mark says slowly, "tell me I didn't crash the Harvard servers last night because I was angry at Erica Albright."  
"You didn't," Divya says, not even bothering to try and make it sound like anything less than the lie it is, "crash the Harvard servers last night because you were angry at Erica Albright. Except for how you did."  
Mark pinches the bridge of his nose, "Why did I think that was a good idea?"  
Divya shrugs, "Some people deal with breakups by sleeping around. You apparently deal with them by getting drunk and coding websites."

The worst part is that it's kind of true, and Mark has noticed that most of his major projects correspond to bad breakups. He's never really had a good breakup, but that would probably result in him coding a website too. It might mean he gets less drunk, though, which would be a vast improvement. Mark's head still feels like there's a sheep stuffed in there, only now the sheep is trying to kick its way out. It's highly unpleasant. He kind of wants to faceplant into his food, but then it'd get on his face and he'd have to wash it off because you can't suffocate yourself in hash browns. Maybe. It seems like it takes too much effort to try, anyway, so Mark just covers his eyes with a hand and tries not to hate himself too much.

"Why didn't you _stop_ me?"  
"I've made it a policy," Divya frowns, "not to intervene until after if Tyler's brought out the unmarked bottles. So the answer is really that I didn't get there in time. Although you did ask me for a ranking algorithm and I refused, I thought that would stop you."  
"Dustin got his friend to give me the algorithm," Mark says, "but thanks."

Stabbing at his hash browns, Mark tries to remember the tiny, small thing that Tyler had said. It was important. No, it wasn't important. It was stupid; the idea Mark had because of the thing Tyler had said was the important thing. That's what he's trying to remember while Divya's watching him carefully. Mark frowns. Something about a dating site. A dating site . . . for Harvard guys. That's what Tyler wanted to do, although he was so drunk that Mark doubts he'd remember. It's exactly as dumb of an idea now that Mark is approaching sober as it was when Mark was drunk off his ass. Still, there was something . . . Ah. _The_ Facebook.

"Tyler had an idea," Mark says, ignoring the way Divya is staring like it'll make Mark eat faster, "He wants to make a dating site for Harvard guys."  
Divya raises an eyebrow, "What's the _but_? I know you. You think his idea is dumb."  
"Because it is," Mark rolls his eyes, "Like the world needs another dating site. I was thinking, though: I hacked into the individual facebooks to get the pictures for FaceSmash."

Divya waits, which is what Mark likes about him. He doesn't try to make Mark get to the point faster, because he's realized that Mark will get to the point when he's given the necessary back story. His points rarely make sense without a little explanation, and Mark has learned that explaining what you were thinking is generally helpful when people don't think quite like you do. He picks at his hash browns again.

"The facebooks are a good idea, but they could be so much more if there was a single localized facebook that you could search to find people and learn more about them. Do you see what I'm saying?"  
"You want to make a new Myspace," Divya says.  
Mark snorts, "God no. Myspace has a horrible interface and is full of teenage idiots. I want to build a central facebook for Harvard where you can meet people. Sort of like a . . . a virtual phone book that tells people all about you if they're looking for you. Do you know what I mean?"  
"No," Divya says truthfully, "but knowing you? This is a brilliant idea and you're going to do it whether I understand or not. My job is making sure that you don't drop dead before you finish it."  
"And backing me," Mark says, purposefully nonchalant, "You know start-ups need money."

Some part of Mark is afraid that Divya won't do it, and he knows that there are other places he could get the money but he wants it from Divya. He wants it from someone he trusts and likes and who has connections that Mark could never hope to match. Divya considers Mark, taking a sip from his orange juice, and Mark methodically chews a mouthful of hash browns. They're helping to clear his head, and it gives him something to focus on besides Divya.

"You're going to pay me back," Divya says finally, "because I know you and I know your stupid project is probably going to make unreasonable amounts of money."  
"Would I be asking you otherwise?"  
Divya smiles, the one that scares people off, "No. You know better than that."

It's true and Mark doesn't know how it became that way, but he knows Divya better than he knows anyone he isn't related to. He pays attention to Divya, cataloging small facts about him away and consistently surprising the Winklevosses. They've known Divya for much longer than Mark—that’s the infuriating thing about being friends with people that outclass you in wealth and come from old money: they all know each other and have known each other for ages—and some of the things Mark remembers about Divya are things they've never learned or have learned and forgotten. Divya always just snorts and shoves at the Winklevosses and makes cracks about how it's really clear that they care about him, thanks.

Mark can't really tell if Divya finds the level of attention Mark pays to him creepy or not. It might just be that he thinks Mark pays that much attention to everyone, which is more or less true. Absorbing information he thinks is important and just remembering it is something that Mark does without thinking. He memorizes people's strengths and people's weaknesses, what people hate and what they like—anything that might prove useful if he needs to get on someone's good side or needs ammunition to make them angry and hurt. 

The problem is really that Mark knows all of these little things about people, but generally he doesn't think it's worth it to go through the effort of getting someone to like him. Erica stopped being worth the effort because it became increasingly clear that she thought he was a means to an end, and if she didn't think he was worth the effort then he saw no reason to keep trying. Mark suspects that this is why he doesn't have that many friends and why people tend to think he's an asshole. He mostly thinks of it as being honest: if he doesn't think people are worth his time, he's not going to lie and pretend to be nice to them. It's an excessive use of energy that he doesn't really have to spare.

He doesn't know if Divya would ever stop being worth it, because Divya is a rare case of someone that's mostly like Mark. For the most part Divya is better at pretending to like people, because Mark guesses that's a skill that every rich kid needs to have, but Divya catalogs little things about people too. He knows their names and faces and their friends and what classes they're taking and if they have pets and whatever else they've shared with him in casual conversation. Mark knows those things too, but he never uses them to seem charming and that’s the difference. He uses the little things he knows about people as a means to an end in the same way, it’s just that his end goal isn’t usually to get someone to like him: it’s to get what he needs from someone.

If Mark tried, he knows that he could be charming like Divya is, but he prefers to be honest instead. Honesty is really all he wants out of other people, which is why Divya tends to just tell Mark flat-out if he's being a _massive_ idiot. Tyler and Cameron are so obsessed with their gentleman's code of ethics that they think Mark and Divya are just assholes, but Mark prefers Divya's small snort and _way out of your league_ to Tyler or Cameron's whole-hearted encouragement most of the time. They both have their place, and it isn't that Mark thinks honesty necessitates never lying. It's just that Mark thinks you should at least be honest about the fact that you're lying and let other people think of what to make of that.

"I'm probably going to need, like," Mark shrugs, picking at his hash browns again, "a thousand bucks to start with. You can draw up the whole legal loan thing if you want, but honestly? This is going to change the world, Divya. You'll see."  
"I believe you," Divya says as he starts stacking the detritus of his brunch back on his tray, "but it makes me feel better to have a failsafe. You know that."  
"Fine," Mark rolls his eyes, "I don't need the money soon, so we're going to negotiate before you fork it over."

Stabbing at his hash browns and shoveling them into his mouth, Mark tries to ignore the small smirk he knows Divya is currently wearing. Until he can pay Divya back, and probably even after, Mark knows that he'll essentially be indebted to Divya and Divya never forgets when people owe him things. He just catalogs them and collects on them when he needs to. Mark probably owes Divya at least two favors for this, which is nothing that Mark can't handle and is part of the reason that Mark asked Divya for the money. He wants something that he's expected to pay back because it's an investment, not a handout.

The hash browns are gone, and Mark dumps all his trash back on his tray and stands up to go dump it. Divya follows, and then they're walking back to the dorm because Mark's not even sure what day it is, but he kind of thinks it might be a weekend. Maybe. He doesn't think Divya would let him sleep through class, regardless of how many sheep were stuffed into his head, honestly, so either it's a weekend or Divya has actually done something nice.

"It's a weekend. Sunday, if you want to know what day," Divya says suddenly, breaking Mark's train of thought, "and I'm not psychic. You just got that look on your face, the one where you don't know what day it is and you're trying to puzzle it out. I thought I'd save you the effort."  
"Hm," Mark glances over at Divya, "Figures. You'd never do anything this nice at your own expense."

Divya protests half-heartedly, but they both know it's true. He might pretend to be nice most of the time, but for the most part Divya puts himself first in the same way that Mark does. The only reason no one ever notices is that Divya's a lot more subtle about it, which is a skill that Mark should pick up eventually but hasn't gotten around to yet. It might make people like him more—which isn't something that Mark spends a _whole_ lot of time thinking about, but it would be nice for people to like him.

When they're back in the suite, Divya walks over to where Tyler is still sprawled on the ground and kicks him gently. Tyler moans, and Divya kicks him again while Mark crosses the room to make a beeline for the coffeemaker. The coffee that Divya started making before he dragged Mark out for food is still warm but not exactly hot, which is fine by Mark because he tends to prefer it that way when he's drinking it at all.

"Tyler," Divya says, "Tyler, wake the fuck up. There's coffee."  
"Stop kicking me," Tyler grumbles, "you asshole."  
"Then get up."

Slowly, Tyler hauls himself up using the coffee table for support. He winces, and Mark used to feel sorry for him until he stopped because every time Mark said that _maybe_ they should stop drinking before they have the world's most epic hangover, Tyler kept drinking. He brought his terrible, head-splitting headaches on himself, and there was nothing to feel sorry for. Mark does pour him a mug of coffee and bring it over to set on the coffee table, though. Erica Albright may have called him an asshole, but that doesn't mean he actually is one. He just doesn't put in the effort when people start to get on his nerves, and a lot of people get on his nerves.

"It's black," Mark says, not quite quickly enough to stop Tyler from taking a sip and making a face, "sorry."  
"That's _vile_ ," Tyler says, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand, "How do you even drink this stuff?"

Okay, it's possible that Mark is a little bit of an asshole sometimes. The face that Tyler makes when he drinks black coffee, though? Totally worth being an asshole. Mark shrugs, because showing Tyler that he's secretly laughing at him would probably start a wrestling match Mark honestly doesn't feel up to. He likes his coffee black and warm, but not hot; Tyler likes some coffee with his cream and sugar.

"It's not my fault you don't like coffee," Mark says mildly.

It looks like Tyler is going to respond, but then Cameron tumbles into the common room and nearly faceplants. He's holding onto the arm of the couch for support, and he looks a little like a zombie even without any special-effects make-up. Both Mark and Tyler turn to look at him, and by the time he's managed to make his way to the coffee machine, Tyler's obviously forgotten what they were talking about. He shakes his head and then gets up, a little bit wobbly but not too bad, and wanders over to the fridge to pour an ungodly amount of creamer into his mug. While Mark is watching him, the couch dips down. Mark turns toward Divya.

"Is it wrong if I know how Tyler and Cameron take their coffee, but I keep giving it to them black because I think it's funny?"  
"You don't actually care," Divya snorts, "but it's probably a dick move by most people's standards. You're lucky they've never noticed."  
"That's why I always actually make your coffee," Mark says, taking another sip, "you'd notice, and then you'd get even."

There's a relative silence then, given that Tyler and Cameron are still clattering around with their coffee, and Mark leans back onto the couch and sips at his coffee. Divya is looking for the remote control, and Mark thinks that they really should put it on the shelf or some place that isn't on the coffee table. It tends to get knocked off and then Tyler sleeps on it and then it's nearly impossible to find the damn thing when they need it. He's absent-mindedly thinking about ways to improve remotes when Divya settles back on the couch and starts flipping through the channels. Mark tries to pay attention, but he's restless now that he's sufficiently not-hungover and feeling more like a real, functioning human being.

Finishing off the last of his coffee, Mark grabs his laptop off the coffee table and boots it up. He's just pulling up a new document to start coding when Divya settles on some terrible reality TV show. Mark can't tell them all apart, but Divya is addicted to each and every one of them. He says it's interesting to watch the hyper-reality present in so-called "real" situations and think about how something being presented as reality is ridiculously far from it. His thesis for the communications half of his double degree is on something about reality tv, so Mark ends up watching a lot of singing competitions and survival competitions and weird shows about celebrities with Divya for "research."

Personally Mark just thinks Divya wants an excuse to watch so much reality TV, but he wants an excuse to drop out of college so Mark's not faulting Divya for combining the things he actually likes to do with the things he has to do. Focusing on his laptop, Mark starts coding. He doesn't exactly have a plan for his new project, but there's no harm in playing around with possible layouts. There should probably be a banner across the top of the page, and obviously there'd need to be a picture of the person . . . Mark doesn't actually notice very much that's going on around him until Divya starts waving a hand in front of his laptop.

"Mark," Divya says, "we're going out to dinner. Save and put it away."

Mark contemplates refusing, but he's done that before and Divya's not above taking the laptop away and having Tyler or Cameron sling him over their shoulder. Deciding that complying is the safer response, Mark saves what he’s been working on and shuts down his computer. As soon as he's set it on the coffee table, Divya is pushing him into his bedroom and telling him to _put on decent clothes, I know you own them_. He finds a neatly folded button-up among the clothes he barely wears and some slacks, which are nowhere near as classy as the suit Divya's changed into but also not as casual as the sweatpants and hoodie he'd been wearing previously. 

Once he's out of his room, Divya drags him out the door and down to some ridiculous and fancy restaurant where they don't put prices on the menu. Mark tried to explain that these places make him feel slightly uncomfortable after the first time Divya dragged him to one, but no one ever listens to him about things like money. They especially don't listen when he complains about how much dinner costs, which he stopped doing once he realized that okay. One of three was always going to pick up his tab, and he would be looking a gift horse in the mouth if he actually kicked up a huge fuss about it. He's getting used to it, so when they waltz in and get seated without a wait, Mark doesn't start to fidget. He looks at the menu instead, checking it over and trying to decide what he actually _wants_ instead of what he thinks is cheapest—mostly because Mark's learned there is no such thing as "cheapest" in restaurants like this.

The menu is _entirely_ in French, and both Tyler and Cameron are terrible at translating so they're constantly leaning over and asking Divya or Mark what something means. Mark's not great at French, but he knows enough about food that he's usually a pretty decent translator. Divya, on the other hand, is actually relatively fluent in French and, like, twelve other languages.

Divya is exactly the kind of person that people hate because he's pretty much a genius at everything. If Mark's being accurate, though, it would probably make more sense to say that Divya is good at _seeming_ to be good at everything. He's not actually good at everything, which Mark knows because it's how they met. Sort of.

Technically Mark and Divya met in Mark's singular computer science class his first semester at Harvard. Divya was taking the class for his applied mathematics major, and Mark was taking it because it was either sit through programming bullshit he learned in high school or take some godawful gen-ed class he could probably test out of. He chose the programming bullshit because at least it would be easy and he could ignore most of the class in favor of programming his newest project.

Two weeks into the semester, Divya sat down next to Mark and pretty quickly figured out that Mark probably should be in a higher-level class. After the class was over, he caught up to Mark in the hallway and asked if Mark would be willing to tutor him, because everything about that class was confusing as fuck to him. Mark had shrugged and said _sure_ , scribbling down a phone number onto Divya's hand. He hadn't expected Divya to actually call him, let alone become friends with him, but whatever. Here they are.

When the waiter comes by to take their orders, Mark orders something he _thinks_ is rabbit for the main course and lets Divya take care of the rest of the details like usual. Tyler and Cameron are both having some kind of beef, which is typical, and Mark doesn't even know what Divya is ordering. It sounds more complicated that the typical French dish, but the waiter only smiles when he says it and then disappears.

"I always feel like ordering at this kind of restaurant is like playing Russian Roulette with my dinner. I did order rabbit, right?"  
"Yes," Divya rolls his eyes, " _Lapin avec Pommes Parisienne_ , rabbit stew with potatoes."  
Mark matches Divya's eye roll, " _Juste parce que je ne parle pas français comme vous_ —"  
"— _ne signifie pas que je ne parle pas elle. Je ne dis pas non._ "

Tyler and Cameron are doing that freaky twin thing again, which Mark takes as a sign that he and Divya should stop joking around with each other in French. The words are familiar in his mouth from the other dinners like this: _Just because I don't speak French as well as you do doesn't mean I don't speak it._ They should be familiar to Tyler and Cameron too, because Mark has this conversation with Divya a lot, but they're a lot of brawn and not an overwhelming amount of brain. Sure, Tyler and Cameron are smart in a conventional way but they're not _brilliant_ in the way Divya and Mark can be.

They're visibly flawed, clearly good at rowing and a select handful of other things while being not so great at everything else, and Mark thinks they know that they're not in the same category. He would feel bad about that, but he doesn't. Having the same kind of people that pushed him into lockers in high school occasionally be recognizing his genius now is kind of nice. He's always known that he's _smart_ , but it's nice to have it validated.

"I never said you did," Mark shrugs, taking a sip from his water glass.  
"You guys have _got_ to stop doing that," Tyler mumbles, "It's freaky."  
Divya raises an eyebrow at Tyler, "I don't really think you have any right to talk. You and Cameron are always doing that freaky twin thing."  
"We do not," Cameron starts.  
"—do any freaky twin things," Tyler finishes.

Mark and Divya give each other a look before shaking their heads. It's no use trying to convince Cameron and Tyler that they do freaky twin shit all the time, Mark has been trying for the better part of a year and they still refuse to think there's anything abnormal about their behavior. He suspects that they don't understand that the only people who end each other sentences as frequently as they do are married couples and other twins—which isn't even taking into account their very complicated eyebrow language that Mark stopped trying to decode when Divya admitted that he didn't understand what they were saying to each other half the time either.

Dinner passes by relatively uneventfully, and just like that it's easy to forget that Erica Albright ever existed. Well, until he gets told that he has an Ad Board meeting. Divya gives him a look that says _serves you right for being an idiot_ when he gets the notice, but both Tyler and Cameron pull some strings to get him off the hook with just a warning. He doesn't know how they did it and it's going to stay that way, because asking them will just remind them that he technically owes them a huge favor. Mark is a fan of not owing favors that he doesn't have to, and the Winklevosses are just gentlemanly enough that they'd consider it their duty if Mark accepts gracefully instead of blowing it up.

It's clear that Divya understands his tactic, but Mark honestly doesn't care. He got out of a potentially disastrous situation with the help of his friends and that's what really matters. It leaves him free to work on thefacebook, which is taking shape fairly quickly, even though he's having to work with Dustin and a couple of his other programmer friends to complete it in a timely manner.

He doesn't really notice that he's spending a significantly smaller amount of time socializing until Divya bursts into his room somewhere close to winter break and announces that they're going _out_.

Mark protests, but he still ends up at the stupid frat party. It's typically loud and full of tipsy or flat-out drunk undergrads, and Divya abandons Mark by the punch table when one of his friends calls him over. For a minute Mark contemplates just leaving and going back to their dorm, but Divya will find out somehow and he'll retaliate. Besides Divya told him to have fun and even if the current situation isn't exactly Mark's kind of fun, he's sure that he can find some fun somewhere.

A tall, and vaguely ethnic guy slots into the space next to Mark, red cup dangling from his fingers, and Mark turns to look at him. He looks sort-of familiar, which means anything from "he goes to Harvard" to "he sat next to me in English once" at parties like this. The guy obviously recognizes him too, if his slightly puzzled expression is anything to go by.

"Hey," the guy says after a moment, "You're Mark Zuckerberg, right? Dustin's friend. And the FaceSmash guy."

Focusing more closely on the guy's face, Mark tries to place him. It isn't like Mark is a total nobody, given the whole FaceSmash thing, but this guy has to know Dustin, which means he was probably one of Chris' friends in freshman year and . . . Ah. The one Chris had a study group with and a crush on, what was his name? It started with an _e_ . . . Eduardo? Yes, Eduardo.

"Yeah," Mark says, "You're Eduardo, right? I think Chris introduced us, once."  
"He did. I didn't think you were paying that much attention, you didn't even look up when he introduced me."

Eduardo smiles, a bright and genuine thing that lights up his whole face, and Mark can't help but compare it to Divya's tiny upturn that has to be searched for and earned. He's not sure if he likes Divya's smile better because he's impossibly in love with Divya or because Eduardo seems like the kind of person that smiles for everything and it feels cheap when the smiles are handed out so freely. Mark doesn't tell Eduardo any of this, though.

"I pay more attention than you would think," Mark shrugs, "You're the one that gave Dustin the algorithm."  
"I didn't know what he was going to use it for," Eduardo says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck, "but I honestly don't mind that much. It's kind of cool to be part of something like that, even if no one knows."

In another time or a different place, Mark thinks that he could have been best friends with Eduardo instead of Divya. It wouldn’t be as smooth or easy, because Mark would destroy Eduardo from constantly asking for things—the moon, the stars, the entire sky—and Eduardo wouldn't ever say _no_. He'd just give and give until there was either nothing left to give or he snapped—Mark's not sure which, but he knows it would be messy. Eduardo's wildly, wildly different, and Mark could love him in all the wrong ways under different circumstances, but under these ones he’s just someone to talk to until Divya says that Mark can go home.

"You seem pretty cool," Mark says, "Why don't we know each other better?"  
Eduardo shrugs, swallowing his beer, "You're friends with guys who row crew. I try not to associate with people like them too much."  
"They're not that bad," Mark says, a little defensive.  
Eduardo shrugs, "I'm just saying."

For all that Tyler and Cameron get on his nerves, Mark thinks that they're loyal and good for protection at the very least. They intimidated away most of the guys looking for a piece of Mark after FaceSmash, and Mark's grateful for that. He's grateful for a lot of things they do, and he might not have imagined that he'd be friends with them, but he is and that's not something he takes lightly.

"Tyler and Cameron are good guys," Mark says simply, "They stand up for what they believe in and they don't let people get pushed around when they don't deserve it. If they happen to row crew, so what? Rowing crew doesn't make you a douchebag any more than being an English major makes you Shakespeare."  
"Sorry," Eduardo holds up his hands a little defensively, "I just have a lot of personal reasons for not wanting to associate with guys like them. I'm sure they're great people."

Nothing about Eduardo reads like a lie when he says it, so Mark decides that he's really not that bad of a guy. They talk some more, casually sipping at their red plastic cups filled with disgusting and cheap beer, and Mark loses track of time until Divya comes back to collect Mark and the party has died down a little.

"Having fun?"

There's something slightly dangerous about the way Divya says it that Mark can't quite place, but he figures that he might just be most of the way to drunk and reading emotions that aren’t there. Eduardo introduces himself to Divya, and Divya is as polite as he always is before he turns back to Mark and wraps his fingers around Mark's wrist.

"We should go," Divya says, "Don't you have that essay due on Monday?"

Even while drunk, Mark knows he doesn't have an essay due on Monday. Divya would have been reminding him the entire week if he had an essay due on Monday, because Divya is the only reason that Mark (barely) passes his classes. He's going to say that when Divya's fingers dig a little more tightly into his wrist. It's a warning, and Mark's not drunk enough to ignore it. He turns to Eduardo instead.

"Yeah, I really should work on that. Email me or something?"  
"Sure," Eduardo says, smiling, "I'll see you around."

Once Mark's said goodbye to Eduardo, Divya starts dragging him out of the party. Mark goes without much fuss until they're on a quiet path back to their dorm. He twists away then, stopping and waiting for Divya to stop too. It takes Divya a moment to realize that Mark isn’t following him, and he's about four feet away from Mark when he does. Turning to face Mark, Divya sighs like Mark is a petulant child.

"Come on, Mark."  
"No," Mark shakes his head, "Not until you tell me what that was all about back there."  
Divya snorts, "What are you talking about?"  
"Don't play dumb," Mark smiles, "It doesn't suit you any more than it suits me."

The silence settles down around them, and Mark waits. Divya looks like he's just going to walk away from the conversation for a moment, but then he closes the space between the two of them until Mark can feel his breath heating the air around them. Through his hoodie, Mark can feel Divya's hands settling on his hips and he's not sure what the proper response to this situation is. He breathes in, then out, and everything is terrifyingly still for a moment. Then everything moves too fast and before Mark can really process what's about it happen, it's already happened: Divya's pressing their lips together and Mark's hands are suddenly awkward and unwieldy.

He doesn't know where to put his arms, doesn't know how to respond to Divya kissing him in the middle of a snowy Harvard path where anyone could potentially see, can't actually do much of anything besides kiss back, and then Divya's pulling away. Mark blinks a couple of times, because he feels unsteady and a little nauseous, and Divya reaches out automatically, pulling him close to keep him steady. Mark leans against Divya and focuses on his breathing. When he feels less like he might fall over or puke, Mark tangles his fingers with Divya's.

"I like you too," Mark says, carefully pronouncing each syllable, "but I'm cold."  
"Well," Divya sighs, tightening his fingers around Mark's, "if you hadn't insisted on having our talk in the middle of campus, you wouldn't be cold. Come on, let's get back to the dorm."

This time Mark lets Divya drag him all the way back to the dorm. He drags Mark to their room and tries to put Mark on his own bed, but Mark sprawls over Divya's bed instead.

"I'm cold," he repeats.  
"Fine," Divya says, probably not even half as annoyed as he sounds.

Shoving at Mark until Mark concedes half the bed, Divya climbs in and pulls the blankets over them. It only takes a moment for both of them to fall asleep, Mark thinks, and it feels like they've only been asleep for a moment more when Divya's supremely annoying alarm clock goes off. Without moving too much, Mark buries his face in Divya's collarbone and tries to shut the alarm clock off with his mind. It's not working very well, because the alarm clock keeps going until Mark grumbles and starts poking Divya.

"Divya. Divya. _Divya_. Shut off your fucking alarm clock."

Flinging out an arm, Divya gropes for the alarm clock and smacks at it a couple of times before it goes off, and the room is blessedly free of loud noises. Mark's just gotten comfortable against Divya's collarbone when Divya shoves him off and stumbles out of bed. It's annoying, but Mark settles down again. Then Divya strips all the blankets off the bed and Mark concedes that yes, it's probably time to get up.

When he finally manages to stand up and stumble into the common room, Divya's already pressing a mug of coffee into his hands. It's hotter than Mark likes, but he honestly doesn't care at that point because the coffee will wake him up and he's still in that state where he's not quite awake enough to deal with the day yet. He has class in . . . Mark looks over and squints at the analog clock on the shelf, trying to remember how to read it for a moment before he gives up and looks at the Divya instead. Divya ignores Mark's pointed stare and settles onto the couch. Mark stares at the back of Divya's head until he answers the question that Mark never actually asked out loud.

"You have class in four hours at noon," Divya says when Mark's just about to actually ask him, "and I can't believe you still don't know how to read that clock."  
"Fuck you," Mark mumbles.  
"Is that a promise?"

Mark can't see Divya's face when he says it, and there's a lot of annoying and pedantic things he's about to say but doesn't. Instead Mark walks around the couch and sets his coffee down on the coffee table before he turns to face Divya. Climbing onto the couch and straddling Divya, Mark touches their foreheads together.

"Yes."

The word is whispered across Divya's lips, and without pausing to think about the fact that Divya still isn't dressed and he has a class at nine, Mark presses their lips together. Divya kisses back, and then there's a loud near-faceplant that causes them both to pull away. When they turn to see who's come out of Tyler and Cameron's room, they're met with a slightly wide-eyed Cameron whose hair has seen better days. Neither of them try to make the situation look like anything less than what it actually is, both mostly waiting for Cameron to say something first. He opens his mouth and then closes it, shaking his head.

"It took you guys long enough," is what Cameron eventually says, followed by: "Is there still coffee?"  
"Yeah," Mark says, casually untangling himself to grab his coffee again and settle on the couch next to Divya, "It should even be relatively hot."

Cameron mumbles his thanks, and then Divya presses a kiss to Mark's cheek before he gets up and disappears back into their room to change. It's winter enough that Mark's fairly sure no one is spending more time naked than they need to be and Divya appears to have decided that showering every-other day is sufficient hygiene. Mark can't fault him; the water heating is as old as Harvard and it occasionally gets a little testy or doesn't work at all. Also Mark only showers like twice a week, so it would be wildly hypocritical to side-eye Divya for not showering every day. Finishing off his coffee, Mark tries to decide if getting dressed and grabbing breakfast is worth it or if it's a "dig the Pop-Tarts out of his desk" kind of day. Probably the latter.

Setting his empty coffee mug with the rest of the dirty dishes that it's definitely Tyler's turn to wash, Mark slips back into the room he shares with Divya and settles at his desk, opening up his drawer and digging around for the box of Pop-Tarts he keeps there. He can feel Divya's disapproving glare from where he's pulling on his sweater, and Mark sets the box on his desk before making an obnoxious amount of noise opening the foil package, just to annoy Divya.

"I seriously don't get how you eat those," Divya says, slinging his bag over his shoulder.  
Mark shrugs, "Mastication and then digestion."

He takes a bite of the Pop-Tart before Divya heads out of the room, and Divya rolls his eyes. Booting up his computer, Mark pulls up the code for thefacebook and starts working out some of the bugs that they really need to fix up now before they become an even larger problem. They're nowhere near done, but its taking shape and Divya's already drawn up the papers for the money he lent Mark. The whole project should have be done before the school year is out, at the very latest. Mark's shooting for launch somewhere at the beginning of next semester, even though Dustin tells him that's crazy. There's not a lot to do over Winter Break, though, and Mark plans to spend most of it in a haze of coding.

Lost in the code, Mark only makes it to his class because Divya set his alarm to go off twenty minutes before Mark is supposed to be there. He contemplates skipping, but that would only annoy Divya and probably not bode well for his grade. Sighing, Mark saves his work and then dresses quickly before grabbing his bag and double-checking to make sure he actually _has_ his keys before he's out the door and walking to his class. It passes like all his other godawful classes, and then he grabs some lunch (contrary to popular belief, Mark knows food is important) before heading back to the dorm and getting back to coding. He has reading he should do, but it's not that difficult and he doesn't consider it that important anyway—his whole life is consumed by the monster that thefacebook is becoming. Divya drags him out at dinnertime because, like he said, his job is mostly to make sure Mark doesn't die before he finishes thefacebook.

When they get back to their room, Mark tries to head for his computer and Divya catches his wrist. Mark stops, turning to fix Divya with a confused look, and Divya tugs him closer. He kisses Mark, this one different from the other kisses—more wanting and less exploratory—before he steers Mark toward one of the beds. Getting with the program, Mark spreads out on the bed when his knees hit the edge of it. Divya hovers above him.

"Cameron and Tyler went out," Divya says, "to give us space—their words, not mine."  
"Whatever," Mark says, fingers finding the hem of Divya's sweater, "You're wearing too many clothes."

Rolling his eyes, Divya starts shedding clothes and making sure they land in a neat pile beside the bed. Mark is less careful, letting clothes drop wherever his hands happen to be, and then they're both naked. 

Mark takes the moment to run his hands along Divya's body, aware of how it's built like a Abercrombie & Fitch model's. Divya might not row crew like Cameron and Tyler do, but he works out regularly and it shows in the subtle definition of muscles that's usually hidden under clothing. It would make Mark self-conscious and aware of how skinny and angular he is, but he knows it doesn't matter to Divya. It's not that Mark doesn't have muscles, because he does. He fenced for _years_ , he has muscles. They're just not well-defined or in places people generally think to see them.

His fingers stutter on Divya's hips, because Divya chooses that moment to start sucking a hickie onto Mark's neck. It'll probably be covered by his hoodies, but Mark knows better than to hope. The people he hangs out with are obnoxiously observant, and they're likely to notice. It's not that he doesn't want Divya to leave reminders of his presence, more that he's not looking forward to the conversations that come afterward.

"Are you going to do that every time?"  
"What do you think?"

It's mumbled into his skin, and Mark rolls his eyes, even though Divya can't see it. When Divya's finally satisfied with the massive blemish he's made, he kisses Mark, who pulls him closer and kisses him like he's been wanting to since he first realized that yes, Divya was his best friend and yes, he really wanted to kiss Divya. Mark doesn't know when Tyler and Cameron are likely to come back, but knowing them, they'll take their time. He and Divya have all the time in the world, really.

When he can focus on them again, Mark should probably thank Cameron and Tyler. The uninterrupted time for this is appreciated, because Mark hasn't ever done any of this while entirely sober. It's not even that Divya is a guy, because Mark is definitely not as straight as people assume. It's just that the last time he fucked someone, it was Erica Albright and the only time he's ever fucked a guy was after a frat party where he was definitely on the way to drunk. It hadn't been great, but Harry chalks that up to the drunkness more than anything. 

Divya digs through the bedside table while Mark lets his hands wander, shifting so he can scrape his teeth over Divya's nipple and make Divya swear and nearly fall off the bed because he's overreaching to get into the drawer. Mark catches Divya, who just glares at him before finally managing to fish a condom and lube out of the bedside table. Divya settles down on the bed and Mark shifts so he's between Divya's legs. The narrow twin beds aren't really big enough for this, but Mark's learned how to make himself small when he needs to be. 

He fingers Divya slowly, mostly because they have the time and he's counting on it making Divya swear and possibly retaliate in the future. Mark knows the way he likes sex, and it's nothing approaching gentle. He prefers it fast and hard, and he knows that he'll have to drag that out of Divya until he can convince him that he's not going to break. Either way, Mark continues what he's doing until Divya's twisting and cursing at Mark, telling him to _come on, you fucking asshole_.

Ripping open the condom and managing to roll it on, Mark is about to ask Divya if he's okay when Divya knocks Mark flat, straddling him and then lowering himself down. His eyes squeeze shut as he rocks down, and Mark forgets how to breathe. Once Divya's settled, he rides Mark fast and hard.

Possibly Mark doesn't give Divya enough credit, because it's exactly what Mark wants and _fuck_ is it amazing.

Mark comes first, which is fine by him because then he gets to go down on Divya, fingers sliding over spit-slick skin and tongue dragging along the underside of Divya's cock. He swallows neatly when Divya comes, a skill cultivated over too many drunken blowjobs—although the taste never actually gets better, in Mark's opinion. He settles down next to Divya then, pressing in close.

"Ugh," Divya says, "Don't fall asleep on me. Your bed isn't covered in sweat and lube, and we're going to sleep on it after we clean off."  
"I don't want to move," Mark huffs, "I'm comfortable."  
"Too bad," Divya shoves at Mark until Mark lets go, "I'm not."

Leaving Mark alone in the bed, Divya disappears and returns with a damp towel. He washes the worst of the grime off, and then insists Mark gets into clothes before they resettle in Mark's bed.

" _Tu me fascines,_ " Divya says, pressing a kiss to Mark's temple, "Let's sleep."  
Mark presses a kiss to Divya's cheek, " _Tu me rends heureux._ "

They settle into a routine for the rest of the semester: Mark works on thefacebook until Divya decides it's time for him to do something else, and then they have sex or Mark actually does his homework or they go to a party or Divya drags Mark to eat something. They fall asleep tangled together when Mark decides to sleep, and Tyler periodically makes crass remarks about them that Cameron smacks him for. Cameron is more hands-off about the whole thing—it's not that he doesn't acknowledge it, more that he doesn't bring it up unnecessarily.

Mark passes all his finals, some less spectacularly than others, and then it's winter break. Divya constantly pesters Mark via text, because apparently he has to spend a ridiculous amount of time at parties with high-strung and boring rich folk, and Mark misses him a little like a limb. He loves his family, and he likes having time to work on thefacebook uninterrupted, but mostly he wants to be back at Harvard and near Divya. Mark would like to say that he only misses Divya because he misses the sex, but that would be a huge lie. Sure, Mark misses that because he's a college guy and sex may not _always_ be on his mind, but it's awesome.

What he misses about being near Divya, though, is the way that Divya tangles their fingers together and smiles at Mark. How Divya always tries to give Mark the exact kind of coffee he likes. The occasional strange conversation in French. Moments when Divya kisses him just to annoy Cameron or Tyler. Neckrubs at strange times of night accompanied by requests to come to bed. Loud and obnoxious dinners with the Winklevosses. Quiet dinners with just the two of them.

He just misses the solid _presence_ that Divya has become in his life.

It's a startling revelation that Mark ignores by focusing almost solely on thefacebook. He makes a ridiculous amount of progress over winter break, fueled by the project of trying to ignore the way he feels about Divya, and it's close to being launch-ready when he has to go back to Harvard. There's something missing, though, and Mark can't quite figure out what it is. He doesn't think too much about it, though, because he's ironing out everything about the code and ignoring everyone—even Divya.

He gets it done within a month of them getting back, or done enough to release in beta, but he waits a couple of days and does some unnecessary smoothing of the code to see if he can figure out what it is that's missing. It's Dustin that gives him the idea, though, because Mark is dead on his feet from hardly sleeping for a month and sitting in the lab when Dustin finds him.

"There's a girl," Dustin says once he's gotten Mark's attention, "in the art history class that you take. Her name is Stephanie Attis. Do you happen to know if she has a boyfriend?"

There's a silence, because Mark is staring at Dustin and trying to convey _you know better than to ask me about girls_ with his mind. Because really, Dustin should. It's not like Mark pays any particular attention to people that he only sees for a couple hours every week and never talks to. They’re not worth the effort, and Mark barely pays attention in class _anyway_.

"I mean," Dustin continues, undeterred, "have you ever seen her with anyone? And if not, do you happen to know if she's looking to go out with anyone?"

Mark sighs, too tired to deal with Dustin, and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. The tension headache is going to set in soon, and Dustin's not helping any.

"Dustin," Mark says, "People don't walk around with a sign on them that says—"

_That’s it_. Scrambling, Mark grabs his bag and rushes out of the lab. Dustin calls his name, but Mark doesn't stop to talk to him because he knows what's missing from thefacebook. Divya's sitting on his bed and studying when Mark bursts into their room and settles down at his computer and calls up everything. He barely notices when Divya comes over and settles his hands on Mark's shoulders, peering at what Mark's doing.

"It looks good," Divya says.  
"I know," Mark says, saving, "but look: _relationship status_ and _interested in_. Those are the things that drive everything people do at college. Are you having sex or aren't you? That's the driving force behind why people take certain classes, why they sit next to certain people—and that's what thefacebook is going to be about. People are going to log on because—"  
Divya's fingers tighten on Mark's shoulders, "They could get laid."  
"Exactly."

Divya twists to kiss Mark, fingers tangling in his hair, and Mark lets him. He pulls away sooner than he normall would, though, because there's still more to say and he can't say it if Divya's kissing him.

"That's it," Mark says quietly, the statement loud to his ears, "I'm done."  
"It's ready to go live?"  
"Yeah."

This time when Divya kisses him, Mark doesn't pull away. He just turns too, fingers twisting into Divya's sweater, and it feels like a reward for everything that he's accomplished and promise of the amazing thing that thefacebook is going to become. This time, Divya pulls away first. Mark notes that he's breathless too and thinks that maybe Divya understands that what they've got is amazing.

"I need the mailing list for The Porc," Mark says when he's able to form the words, "so we can get the word out."

Tyler and Cameron wander into the room then, probably called by Mark mentioning The Porc, and they lean against the doorway of the room. Mark ignores them, because while thefacebook is the product of Tyler's drunken idea, the twins haven't had that much to do with it. Divya occasionally asked what Mark’s doing and watched as the site unfolded, but Tyler and Cameron have been treating it like any of Mark's other projects. They don't really understand what he does, so they show their support by leaving him alone. Mark appreciates that, because he doesn’t really like having to explain things unnecessarily.

Cameron steps closer, looking at Mark's screen, "Did you finish?"  
Divya squeezes Mark's shoulder, "It's live."  
"Yeah," Mark shrugs, "but that's useless if no one is logging on."  
"Of course," Divya smirks, "We were just about to send it out to The Porc's mailing list."

Tyler comes over then, and they're all crowded around the computer and looking at the front page of thefacebook. Mark has actually never felt prouder of anything.

"Good plan," Tyler says, "that'll help promote the idea that it's exclusive."  
"Move," Divya says, nudging at Mark, "I'll send it."

Pausing for a moment, Mark decides that it'll probably go over better if the message comes from someone who’s actually a member and is supposed to have the mailing list in the first place. He stands up, letting Divya sit down and send out the site to every member of The Porc. Then, that's it. The only thing to do is to wait for thefacebook to spread like a disease, and that'll take a while. Maybe not more than fifteen or twenty minutes, but Mark has confidence in his creation and he knows that it doesn't need him to baby it forever. Leaning over Divya's shoulder to peer at the screen, Mark can't help it.

"It's live," he says, quietly awed, "I did it."  
"If I give you guys a hundred bucks and tell you guys to go get wasted on me and not come back until the bar kicks you out," Divya says, looking at both of the twins, "will you do it?"

They look at each other, and then Cameron looks down at where Divya's laced his fingers with Mark's. He clears his throat and elbows Tyler, who is definitely biting back something—probably more sexual innuendo. Absently, Mark makes a mental note to switch Tyler's photo on thefacebook for the one where one of the crew guys sharpied a penis on Tyler's forehead when he was passed out at a party; Mark's been saving it for an occasion like this. Cameron's photo is going untouched, though, because he just holds out his hand and waits for Divya to peel two fifties off his wad of cash.

Once he's got the money, Cameron drags Tyler out of the suite. He doesn't stop Tyler from yelling _use condoms!_ embarrassingly loud, though. Divya waits just long enough to hear the door shut behind them, and then he pulls Mark over to his bed and starts tugging at his clothes. There's the weird tangle of getting undressed and then _fuck_ , Divya's settling on top of Mark and there's skin on skin and _yes_.

"You should thank me," Divya says, smirking down at Mark, "I got rid of the twins for the night."  
"I've spent the last three months coding the website that's going to make us rich. It was the least you could do. Fuck me."

Mark's words are punctuated by him grabbing Divya's ass and arching up to line up their cocks. Divya groans and then he's shifting to dig through the bedside table for the lube and condoms. While he's doing that, Mark absently kisses the dip of Divya's collarbone and trails downward, sucking on Divya's nipple gently. Checking to make sure that Divya's in a relatively stable position first, Mark nips at Divya's nipple and Divya curses.

"What is it with you and trying to make me fall off the bed? Fucker. This would not take so long if you weren't such an asshole, by the way."  
Mark grins into Divya's skin, "It's incentive for you to work faster."

Divya rolls his eyes, tossing a condom in the general direction of the mattress. It lands just past Mark's face, and Mark doesn't bother to move it. While Divya continues to dig around for the lube, Mark amuses himself by teasing Divya's other nipple and seeing how many times he can make Divya curse before he manages to find the lube. It's not a single-digit number, possibly because the lube is shoved all the way in the back of the drawer and they really need to learn to make it more accessible, but when Divya shifts back he roots his fingers in Mark's hair and kisses him hard. Mark feels smug. He lets Divya manhandle him however he wants until he's got fingers working in and out of Mark and he's being just as much of an asshole as Mark was earlier.

They're not really particular about getting fucked or fucking, because Mark knows that there's merits to both, but Mark _definitely_ has a preference for being fucked most of the time just because Divya's fingers are fucking ridiculous and Mark just really likes getting fingered, okay? Divya's not afraid to use that, because they're never very nice to each other during sex, and he'd finger Mark for _hours_ if Mark let him.

Adding a third finger, Divya bites at the inside of Mark's thigh and pointedly ignores his cock. Mark would try to get Divya to do what he wants, only he's learned that it's an exercise in futility. Well, he knew that it was to begin with, but he's learned that Divya tends to be extremely focused during sex. Mark twists his fingers in the sheets instead and whines until Divya's decided he's had enough and rips the foil of the condom packet, slipping it on and lining up.

Mark chokes on the noise he wants to make when Divya presses forward. He tips his head to the side instead and lets Divya have access to the mark that's ever-present at this point. Divya stays for a moment, just to annoy Mark, and then he moves, Mark's fingers digging into his shoulders. 

Wrapping a hand around Mark, Divya touches their foreheads together as he brings Mark off. Mark's world is narrowed down to the choked off noises that he's making and the way Divya's skin refuses to give under his blunt nails, bitten to the quick. Mark pulls Divya down for a kiss, arching into his hand and coming with another half-there noise. 

"Divya," Mark says quietly.

It's a request, largely unspoken, but Divya's gotten fairly good at understand the things that Mark isn't saying. That's among the reasons why Mark likes Divya: he understands, and he comes too, barely avoiding an unpleasant collapse onto Mark. They stay still for a moment, and then Divya untangles himself, tying off the condom and dropping it on the bedside table. Mark curls into his side once he's done it, settling his face in Divya's collarbone and closing his eyes. Divya slings an arm over his hip.

"We should shower."  
"No," Mark shifts closer, "we should take a nap and then fuck again before they come back. We're celebrating, Divya."  
Divya chuckles, "You mean you want me to make up for the last couple of weeks where you blew me off to code thefacebook."

Maybe if they didn't understand each other as well as they do, Divya would hold the fact that Mark immersed himself in code instead of spending time with him. As it is, Mark knows that Divya doesn't because he understands the potential of what they've made. It something, and even if they don't know _what_ yet, it's pretty clear that it's as amazing as Mark hoped it would be.

"Millions," Mark mumbles, trying to convey all the things he's thinking, "It was totally worth you not getting laid for a month, admit it."  
"It was," Divya whispers, "It really was."

They sleep for a little while, and the twins haven't come back by the time they wake up, so Mark fucks Divya. It's a little less frantic but no gentler, and by the time they've finished, the entire bed is a mess. This time, Divya won't take no for an answer when he suggests a shower. He washes Mark's hair, fingers threading through it and massaging Mark's scalp while Mark leans against him. They _don't_ fuck in the shower, because the singular time they tried that Mark had almost gotten a concussion and really it just isn't worth the effort. 

Once they're clean and dressed, they curl up on Mark's bed. It's nowhere near large enough for the both of them, but they haven't slept in separate beds since getting together and it's cold enough that they don't wake up sticky and stuck together.

" _Tu es l'amour de ma vie_ ," Divya says, just as Mark's slipping into sleep.  
" _Je veux être_ ," Mark yawns, " _avec toi pour toujours_."

It doesn't take very long for thefacebook to spread like the wildfire Mark wanted. Within a week, people are saying "yeah, facebook me" and Mark kind of wants to grin like a lunatic every time someone does it and he overhears. The same people that Cameron and Tyler had to scare away after the whole FaceSmash debacle think Mark is like a _god_ now, and Mark revels in it. Divya seems to recognize that thefacebook is taking over Mark's life, and he tries to stop it for a little while before he gives up because he gets it. Mark knows he gets that this is what Mark _wants_ from life.

"You're not coming back," Divya says one day while he's watching Mark monitor the site, "are you?"  
"You're not either," Mark says, eyes still focused on his screen, "Why does it matter?"  
"I'm _graduating_ ," Divya shakes his head, "that's the difference, Mark. I don't have to come back."

Shifting, Mark turns to look at Divya. The dart that he's always chewing on is between his teeth, and he takes it out and sets it on his desk while he studies Divya. Mark's fingers are nervous, tapping against the tabletop, and he sighs.

"I think I'm going to California after the semester's over," Mark says, not meeting Divya's eyes, "I want to rent a house, hire a couple more programmers, see if we can't get a couple investors interested in what we've got. I was going to tell you when the plans were more final."

There's a lot that Mark isn't saying and trusting Divya to understand on his own, which he knows is a stupid plan, but Divya is going to England with the Winklevosses in a couple of weeks and they're only just starting to expand to other schools. It hadn't seemed like the right time to bring any of this up and he’s note prepared. He waits for Divya to say something, because he's not going to say anything further if he doesn't need to.

"Have you looked at houses? Sent out a call for programmers? Decided whether or not we're going to try and expand to Oxford too?"  
"No, yes and I'm looking the applicants over, and yeah, I told you yesterday that you should definitely try and get Oxford in when you and the Winklevosses are out having fun in England."  
"You told me that right before you went down on me," Divya snorts, "I think I can be forgiven for forgetting. Okay, we should look at houses when you're done with your code push. We'll probably need enough space for, what? You have three programmers right now, including you, how many more do you want to hire? And are you actually going to formally ask Eduardo if he wants to be CFO instead of just running to him with all your complicated business questions?"

Mark shrugs, because he's been waffling on that idea. On the one hand, Eduardo has been answering all of Mark's insane questions about how to best expand and what kinds of things they should be doing to monetize the site if they don't really want ads just yet—even when Mark is pretty sure that Eduardo should be sleeping. Or doing something that isn't answering Mark's questions. Besides, he was the one who suggested that they change it from thefacebook to just Facebook for easier branding. On the other hand, Mark's unsure if that would be like a slight to Divya. He taps his fingers against the table absently and considers. Probably not, since Divya has mostly been handling PR and outreach so far.

"I could ask," Mark says, "since technically we don't have anyone running that. You're mostly PR and outreach stuff, and it would be good to let you focus on that instead of trying to handle the money too. And I think I'm hiring three new programmers so we can have three shifts of two people monitoring and making sure nothing goes wrong. That's eight hours of work, which is reasonable. Right?"

Divya nods, having retrieved a piece of paper and a pen. He's writing down notes, because he's started writing down all of Mark's ramblings so they don't forget later, and Mark's grateful for that. Sometimes he's thinking of too many things and his ideas get lost in the huge junkyard that is his brain.

"So eleven people," Divya says finally, looking up at Mark for confirmation, "You, me, the five other programmers, Eduardo, the Winklevosses, and Chris."  
"Chris?"

Vaguely, as second-hand information, Mark knows that Chris has been making sure Dustin didn't drop dead in the same way Divya's been making sure that Mark doesn't, but he isn't sure why Divya would count him among the people that are likely to go to California. He knows that at least a couple of the people on the list aren't going to be at the house all the time, so it's more like eight people total, but still. Divya gives Mark one of those looks that says _I’m going to need to catch you up on things aren't I?_ but he sighs and sets the paper aside.

"Chris and I started talking about when you and Dustin both decided that sleep is an optional activity. He said he wants to take on the most human resource aspect of what I've been doing, and also I'm recruiting him to help me with babysitting you and your dumb programmers over the summer."  
"We don't need babysitting," Mark says, but it doesn't sound as convincing as he would like, "We can take care of ourselves."  
"You fell asleep on your keyboard last night," Divya says pointedly, "and when I woke you up, there were fifteen pages of _h_ on your computer instead of an essay and you asked me if it was Friday. It was Tuesday yesterday."

There's really not very much Mark can say to that, because it's true. He's been working on an essay for one of his classes and he'd fallen asleep, exhausted, because he'd only been sleeping in snatches for the past week. Then he'd woken up and couldn't remember what day it was or what essay he'd been working on. Divya had looked at him for a moment and then wrestled him into bed and threatened bodily harm if Mark didn't sleep for at least eight hours. He slept for twelve, and Divya had sorted through all his syllabuses to write down a schedule of everything Mark was supposed to turn in and when he was supposed to do it by the time Mark had woken up. It's currently tacked up next to the computer, and Mark sighs. He probably wouldn't get anything important done if it weren't for Divya.

"Point," Mark says, turning back to his screen and ignoring Divya again, "I'll ask Eduardo when I see him tomorrow, okay? I'm going over to Kirkland so I can talk to Dustin, and Eduardo will probably be there."

Eduardo is there, of course, because Eduardo is always in Dustin's suite. Mark talks to Dustin first, because it's more important, but it only takes about twenty minutes to decide on how they're going to handle the hiring of new programmers and then Mark is settling on the couch next to Eduardo. He's working on economics or something else that Mark doesn't understand and doesn't want to understand, and Mark waits until Eduardo looks up to say anything.

"Hey, Mark," Eduardo grins, "what's up? Do you have more strange business-related questions for me?"  
"No," Mark shakes his head, "but I did tell Divya that I'd ask you if you wanted to be our official CFO. So, do you?"  
"Mark," Eduardo pauses, just staring and flabbergasted for a moment, "Mark, I."  
"Oh my god," Dustin yells from where he's sitting at his computer, "Just say yes, Wardo! We all know you don't even want that internship in New York anyway and Facebook is, like, five-hundred percent cooler."

Flipping Dustin the bird and saying something in Portuguese that just makes Dustin laugh, Eduardo turns his attention back to Mark. He's still not saying anything, and Mark absently wonders what this conversation would have been like if he had gone to Eduardo for the money instead of Divya. It's a pointless exercise, though, because he didn't. It's not like Mark even knows Eduardo that well anyway, which is why it takes him by surprise when Eduardo shifts and pulls Mark forward into a hug. Mark hugs back awkwardly, because he's really not used to people hugging him that aren't his mom or his aunts and occasionally Divya, and then Eduardo releases him.

"Yes," Eduardo says, breathless, "Yes, I will be your CFO. You don't what this means to me, Mark."  
"I think you'd be surprised," Mark shrugs.

He doesn't know _exactly_ what it means to Eduardo, but Mark knows the bright-eyed and slightly awed look on Eduardo's face. He knows what Eduardo says that night at the party ( _it's kind of cool to be part of something like that_ ) and he's been present for one or two of the aborted, intensely furious conversations with Eduardo's father purely by accident. This means something important for Eduardo, and Mark gets that. He kicks Dustin off his own computer to make the changes with the masthead while he remembers, and Eduardo hugs him again when he sees it.

"Thank you," Eduardo says.  
"No problem," Mark smiles, "We're glad to have you."

And, just like that, Mark has a team of people behind him. Technically he's always had a team, but everyone sort of did whatever they needed to before this point. Now, Mark has people who have specific jobs and a workload that's spread evenly enough that no one is killing themselves to do everything that needs to be done anymore. Nothing goes wrong when Divya is in England trying to reach out to Oxford and possibly Cambridge, because Chris is stateside and he fixes whatever problems crop up. Eduardo starts talking about maybe adding some user-tailored ads to the site, which Mark is annoyed with until Divya sits him down and makes him _listen_ to what Eduardo's saying instead of just saying _no_.

It's actually not a terrible idea, if they can get people to actually take them seriously instead of thinking they're a bunch of idiots with computers. Eduardo says he'll try some things and see if he can't get some people interested, and then Divya wants Mark's opinion on potential houses so Mark goes over to him instead. He mentions maybe hiring four programmers instead of three, because he's been busy doing . . . Important CEO things like picking out a house in California and convincing his mother to let him move out there in the first place. Divya looks at him, considering, and then calls Eduardo over to see if they can even pay that person.

Apparently they can't, which is annoying but not anything Mark can't work with. He hires the three best programmers from the bunch that applied, which he determines by making them hack and drink at the same time. Divya disapproves, but Mark rolls his eyes and explains that he wants people that are just as good impaired as they are unimpaired. If he can crash Harvard's servers drunk off his ass, he expects his programmers to be able to at least hack while drunk. It doesn't make sense to Divya, but Divya lets Mark hold his hacker competition anyway which is all that really matters.

Well. That and the fact that somewhere between making sure Facebook doesn't crash and sorting out their impending move to California, Mark actually attempts to go to class and get passing grades. He doesn't want to _flunk_ college; he wants to _drop-out_ , and the distinction means he mostly has to go to class and turn in his assignments and try not to act like the whole thing is a huge waste of time—even if it is. Divya sometimes tries to convince Mark that he should continue on with college, but then Mark always turns to Eduardo and asks him about their next year. The projections don't do well when the CEO is wasting his time at college, and finally Divya gives up and says that Mark can do whatever he wants so long as it's not going to land him in jail.

Divya’s very specific about the "don’t do things that are going to land you in jail, " probably because dealing with Mark’s taught him that programmers tend to have somewhat ambiguous morals and they’re not going to be fully staffed for two or three years at least so they actually can’t _afford_ to bail anyone out of jail.

Chris, Eduardo, and at least one of the programmers are finishing off their degrees before coming to work for Facebook full-time, which Mark doesn't really mind. He figures that they can hire some people from Stanford if it becomes a problem, which he has Eduardo factor into their budget even though Eduardo moans about how that is _definitely_ going to cause problems later. Mark shrugs and says it'll work itself out somehow, even if Eduardo doesn't believe him. Divya back Mark up, partially because he knows that Mark is usually right about these things and partially because Divya is an _awesome_ boyfriend. Even when he's an asshole that instills a curfew barring the inevitable crazy site problem, which he then proceeds to actually enforce. Who even goes to bed before 2am? Programmers don’t, but apparently regular people do.

Honestly, Divya is probably the only reason none of them drop dead by the end of the semester. The Winklevoss twins are better at taking care of themselves, because they're largely uninvolved with anything Facebook except for the occasional opinion of what seems like the best plan of action and lending a little bit of money when they eventually just gave up on renting and _bought_ a house that they could turn into a temporary office—if nothing else. It's in Mark and Divya's name, because Divya is choosing to view the house as an investment for the future, given that he and Mark are unlikely to move out of it for a while.

Because Eduardo and Divya together are a force that can't be stopped, they somehow manage to get in touch with Peter Thiel. Divya and Eduardo both drag Mark out to a store that sells stupidly expensive suits and make him get something custom-tailored and obnoxiously stiff. Mark is pretty useless in the face of Divya's promise of sex and Eduardo's sad eyes, though, so he lets the tailor take his measurements and then he's got a suit that's probably going to get a lot of use before he grows out of it, because he's refused to get another one until he absolutely has to. Both Divya and Eduardo give each other a look that Mark can tell means nothing good, but he's not. He's not going to get another uncomfortable suit unless he absolutely has to because suits are awful and Mark would rather not wear them if he doesn't have to. He's not like the Winklevosses or Divya or Eduardo, who have all grown up in suits and are as comfortable in them as they are in their own skins.

"Wow," Dustin says when Mark finishes complaining during a coding tear, "It's like you have two very attractive and forceful boyfriends, I don't understand why you're complaining."  
"Because _all my friends are assholes_ ," Mark groans, "Seriously, you're all conspiring against me. I'm the CEO! You're all replaceable."  
"I hate to tell you this," Dustin says solemnly, "but everyone pretty much agrees that the hierarchy goes Divya, then you, then Eduardo, then the Winklevosses. And I'm pretty sure the only reason Eduardo isn't above you is because you're scarier than he is."

Mark opens his mouth to say something and then closes it again and keeps coding furiously. Dustin, because he's at least a little bit loyal, shuts his mouth and stops talking. He knows better than to try and talk to Mark when Mark's sulking (even if he's not admitting that he's sulking, which he totally is), and that's one of the reasons that even though Dustin is listed as "expendable programmer" in the masthead, Mark knows he actually isn't expendable. His team isn't replaceable either, if only because his team mostly consists of his friends and Mark would really hate having to find new friends on top of having to hire new people. He's not sure if any of the people he hired would be as understanding of his quirks either, which is something he definitely doesn't want to have to deal with.

For all that he's currently revolutionizing social media, Mark is a creature of habit. He's doesn't have that many friends because it's hard for him to make new ones when he doesn't really know what to expect from new people. They can surprise him with a higher frequency than the people he's studied and gotten to know, which is why Mark tends to be friends with stubborn assholes who don't know when to give up. They become Mark's friends by attaching themselves to him and never leaving, which gives Mark enough time to get to know them and their quirks. It also comes in handy when he needs a bunch of headstrong people to help him run a company even when people are telling them that they can't do it.

"I hate you all," Mark says, and doesn't mean.  
"No you don't," Dustin snorts, "You love us all and you just don't want to admit it."

The fact that Mark doesn't respond to Dustin's correction is an answer in and of itself. The truth is that Mark feels a little like he's built a family with Facebook. He's never going to say it to any of them, because he doesn't actually know how to express his affections like normal people, but at some point Facebook stopped being about him and started being about the people that Mark surrounds himself with. He thinks it's pretty cool that something so full of love and meant to bring people together grew out of him being stupid, angry, drunk, and blogging—which is unbearably sappy, especially for him—and he's glad that the world seems to like what they've done too.

For the most part, Mark just lets the remaining month of the semester pass without focusing much on anything but Divya and Facebook. He half-asses his finals, which is enough effort that he'll pass the classes but not enough effort that he'll pass with flying colors, and Divya rolls his eyes. Mark doesn't care, though, because there were more important things to do than give any of his finals real effort. They're making the trip to California in stages so the site doesn't have to come down entirely, and Mark is in the first batch of people that are heading to the West Coast while Dustin is in the second. For the most part, Mark's spent the last week frantically packing and making sure that everything is going smoothly and that nothing is going to die a horrible death when they break down part of the equipment that's keeping Facebook running and move it across the country.

It's possible that Mark's being overly paranoid, but Facebook is definitely Mark's equivalent of a child and besides the point of Facebook is that _it never crashes_. There are so many things that can go wrong with the move, but Mark's hoping that they'll be okay. They have to be okay.

"Hey," Divya says, fingers framing Mark's face, "Mark, look at me. Repeat: nothing disastrous is going to happen when we fly out to California. We will get there, set Facebook back up, and then Dustin's half of the team will come tomorrow and everything will be okay. We're moving Facebook during off-peak hours, and _nothing will go wrong_."

Closing his eyes and breathing, Mark tries to believe in Divya's words. He almost forgets that he's supposed to repeat them, and then Divya poke his cheek.

"Nothing disastrous is going to happen when we fly out," Mark repeats, "We will get to California, set Facebook up, and then Dustin's half of the team will come tomorrow and everything will be okay. We're moving Facebook during off-peak hours, and nothing will go wrong."

Repeating it does make him feel better, and Mark pulls Divya close for a moment before pulling away and overseeing the last of the packing before they head to the airport and then, finally, start on their way to California. Cameron and Tyler somehow managed to wrangle their father's private jet for the trips to California, which Mark is infinitely grateful for, and they're coming with the second wave of people. The first wave is just Mark, Divya, Eduardo, and a couple of the programmers. They leave at midnight, and then the second wave leaves at four am—which is a lot tougher on the non-programmers than the programmers, who are used to staying awake late into the night.

One they're in California, Mark and Eduardo are supposed to have a meeting with Peter Thiel, which is both the most exciting and the most terrifying thing. Mark's going to put on his suit and pretend to be an actual adult instead of a nineteen year old kid who was angry at Erica Albright for being a bitch and accidentally revolutionized social media in the process of getting over her. He's going to have to convince Peter Thiel that he's worth the investment and that Facebook isn't going to stop growing anytime soon.

They're already creeping toward a million members, and that's something Mark never even dreamed of. He thinks that maybe he can start dreaming a little bigger now that they're on their way to California and way farther along than Mark ever dared to dream. He sits on the couch, covering his face with his hands. Divya comes up behind him, resting his hands on Mark's shoulders, and Mark relaxes into the touch.

"Are you all done packing?"  
"Yeah," Mark says, "Now all that's left is to actually get to California. Would now be a bad time to admit that I have no idea what I'm doing?"  
"None of us do," Divya squeezes Mark's shoulders, "We're young, stupid, and changing the world. I'm going to go find Eduardo, you go find your programmers, and then we'll get going. _Je t'aime plus que vous connaissez_ , Mark."  
" _Je t'aime aussi_ ," Mark mumbles, standing up, "Hey, Divya?"  
"What?"  
"One day," Mark smiles, "People in Bosnia are going to have Facebook. They might not have paved roads, but they'll have Facebook because everyone will."

Divya rolls his eyes like Mark's talking crazy again, but Mark doesn't let it deter him. He knows that one day everyone in the world is going to have Facebook, and Erica Albright won't even matter. She'll be a long-forgotten memory, a funny story he tells to the press, and that'll be it. He'll wake up every morning next to Divya knowing that he controls the world and that's what he's worked for. Facebook will be something that people won't be able to live without, a main form of communication, and Mark can't wait.

He finds the two programmers that are coming with them, Billy and Alex, and tells them to start hauling their stuff down to the car because they're all heading out soon and he doesn't want to wait around for them longer than he has to. He grabs the backpack that currently contains a good portion of his possessions and shrugs it on before slinging the duffle bag that contains all of his clothes over his shoulder. That's pretty much the extent of the stuff that they hadn't shipped off to the California house yesterday, because it's just the essential stuff. He's got his laptop, clothes, and his computer plus the sever they broke down for transport that will be loaded into the car after everyone's dumped their stuff in.

The car loading goes fairly quickly, probably helped by Mark's visible impatience, and then Cameron's driving the five of them to the airport, helping them stack their luggage for transport to the plane. When their stuff is on a conveyor belt and heading toward their plane, something in Mark relaxes a little. Cameron says that he'll see them all in a couple hours before he drives away and all that's left is to get on a plane.

There's a short wait while their plane is being fueled and their luggage is being loaded, but then they're boarding the plane and it's taking off. Nothing particularly exciting happens during the flight, because they all end up falling asleep, but Mark wakes up just before they touch down in San Jose. The city is scattering of bright lights spread across the ground below him, and Mark stares out the window while they spiral down. Actually _seeing_ California, even from so high up, isn't as terrifying as Mark thought it might be. Divya hooks his chin over Mark's shoulder, and Mark finds Divya's hand so he can tangle their fingers together.

Divya yawns, "Are you ready to take over the world?"  
"Yeah," Mark says, "I am."


End file.
